


Bubblegum

by neuroglam



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon What Canon, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Pizza, Relationship Negotiation, Sugar Baby Yuri, Victor's fourteen-inch dick, Viktor Nikiforov Is A Financial Genius, because fandom, eh save for how he sleeps with fourteen-year-olds, for we need one as a fandom and bad, sb Victurio, surprisingly Victor is a decent human being in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam/pseuds/neuroglam
Summary: It's exactly what it says in the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

Fourteen-year-old Yuri is slouching on the locker room bench, still in his ballet gear. His hair is in his face, his nose is in his cell-phone, and his black yoga pants cling to his tiny hips and muscled thighs, lie snug against the bulge of his cock.

He's quite enjoyable to look at.

“I want an iPhone,” Yuri says and stares brazenly at Victor. The little shit.

And here Victor thought he was being subtle with his ogling.

Yuri pops a chewing gum bubble and keeps staring. “This one is old.” _Pop_. “The screen’s broken.”

That’s ‘cause you smashed it in the wall, Victor doesn’t say.

He looks at Yuri scrape his bottom lip with his teeth as he swipes the popped gum bubble back into his mouth.

Yuri looks at him.

Victor tilts his head. “And if I want you to come to my place tonight after practice?” he asks nonchalantly as he sits on the bench next to Yuri.

“When you buy me an iPhone.” Yuri shrugs and blows another bubble, eyes back on the screen.

“You know where I live, yeah?” Victor says.

“Aa.”

“Six thirty.”

Yuri glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Aa.” _Pop_. “I’ll need cab money, too.” _Pop_. “For after.” He turns to Victor and fixes him with a stare.

“Fair enough,” Victor says. “Though you’re selling yourself short.” He digs into his bag and pulls out his wallet. “Here.” He holds out two 1000-Ruble notes. “For your way there.”

Yuri looks at him, then at the notes, and raises an eyebrow—then snatches the notes and gets up. “So I’ll see you later, yeah?” he says on his way out.

“Wear the yoga pants,” Victor calls after him.

"Aa." Yuri says and pops a bubble.


	2. Chapter 2

When Victor steps out of the cab with a brand new Apple Store bag, Yuri’s already sitting on the front steps. He’s doing that thing where he pretends he can’t be fucked because he’s too busy staring at his phone—except for how he’s leaning against the wall, one of his legs folded at the knee, the other stretched out just so. Victor appreciates the effort—and the visual result.

He’s not wearing the yoga pants (probably changed out of them specifically to annoy Victor), but his usual ratty trainers have been replaced by a pair of knock-offs. They’ve got red suede, leopard print fabric, and black patent leather, and hot-pink Adidas stripes. Victor tries to set them on fire just by looking.

Sadly, it doesn’t work.

Yuri sees him and gets up, still hiding behind his phone. It’s easy to see why—he’s blushing hard enough to match his shoes.

“Hi,” Victor says.

“Hi.” Yuri’s eyes shift from his phone screen to the Apple Store bag in Victor’s hand.

Victor smiles at him and touches his access card to the front door of the building. “Go ahead.”

Yuri’s not dumb; he climbs the stairs ahead of Victor. Victor won’t even pretend he’s not looking at his ass. The ass is absolutely excellent, but the skinny jeans it's in are one-size-too-tight and have started to rip. Absent-mindedly, he starts a mental shopping list.

They climb to the second floor. Makkachin’s shuffling and yipping loud enough for them to hear as soon as they step on the landing, and puts her front paws on Victor’s chest as soon as he opens the door. Victor couches to scratch her behind the ears. It’s their thing: every day, without fail, he takes the time to tell her what a good girls she is. She’s a _very_ good girl, so it takes a while.

Next to him, Yuri toes off the shoes from hell and stares like Victor’s lost his mind. Which he probably has, seeing how he’s bribing fourteen-year-olds with iPhones for the chance to feel them up and suck their dick.

“Here, girl!” He gets up and claps. Makka enthusiastically follows him to the kitchen, where he distracts her with a copious amount of treats.

By the time Victor’s dealt with his dog, Yuri is on the couch with the Apple Store bag, tearing wrappers and digging into boxes. His expression is absolutely priceless—he doesn’t manage to hide how happy he is even when he notices Victor look. Victor smiles to himself. He didn’t expect how satisfying it would be to see that something he did makes Yuri so uncomplicatedly happy.

“Hey, at least pretend you’re not only interested in the iPhone,” Victor teases as he sits down. “C’mon,” he says and pats his leg.

“I’m not your fucking dog,” Yuri grumbles, but he does put the phone aside and comes to straddle him. He’s a little shy, and a little awkward, so Victor doesn’t rush him.

Yuri settles himself across Victor’s lap gingerly and fidgets with his arms a little before putting them around Victor’s neck. He’s looking down and blushing crimson.

“Hmm.” Victor splays his palms on Yuri’s thighs. He can get used to this: the weight on his lap, the feel of firm muscle. Fifty-five kilos of shy, embarrassed teenager—though if Victor knows Yuri at all, this last part wouldn’t last long and Yuri will be back to sassing him in no time.

Victor relaxes into the couch. “Scoot forward.”

Yuri does, back to blushing like mad. Victor smiles at him and slides his hands up his thighs until they’re on both sides of his hips. “Really nice,” he says. He rubs his thumbs back and forth over Yuri’s jutting hip bones. “Settle down,” he says, voice a little lower and quieter.

Yuri relaxes his full weight on top of him.

“Good,” Victor says and keeps rubbing.

Yuri’s looking down, trying to hide behind his hair, but that makes it almost better. Victor can take his time. Look everywhere, for as long as he wants to. Yuri wets his lips and bites them, nervous. This is definitely worth an iPhone.

His t-shirt is black and faded and slightly threadbare, falling over his nipples where they’ve pebbled in the slight chill. Victor was born in 1990—exactly on time to get scouted during one of Russia’s worst economic crises. He remembers this part: how the only socks without holes he owned were the ones he used for skating, and how his clothes were half in tatters but it was kinda fashionable so he tore them up better and called it grunge.

Yuri’s feet are bare, he notices, in spite of the chill.

His socks can be seen from here, balled up in his new shoes.

“You shouldn’t have bought these,” Victor says and points with his chin towards them.

“Fuck you. It’s my money, I’ll spend it on whatever I want to.”

“Hnn, true.” Victor keeps rubbing his thumbs up and down Yuri’s hips. “But you could have kept the two thousand rubles and asked me for a pair of real ones next time.”

“Next time?” Yuri swallows. Victor brushes the front of his jeans with his fingers. Up and down. Up and down.

“Of course next time.”

“How do I know there’ll be a next time,” Yuri says, his dick firming in his pants, because he’s a fucking teenager and a stiff wind plus someone else’s fingers is all it takes.

“You’ll start earning real sponsorships, soon. You should always negotiate like there’d be a next time.”

“Ugh… please.” Yuri tries to buck into Victor’s hand.

“Please, what?”

“Shut up and take it out, fuck, do something!”

Victor laughs. “Oh, I will.” He unbuttons Yuri’s jeans, then puts his palm on his dick through his boxers. The thumb of Victor’s other hand presses on Yuri’s lips then sinks between them.

Yuri moans around it and sucks, trying not to be too obvious about rubbing himself against Victor’s hand. Victor lets it go for a while, because the view from where he’s sitting is everything he’d hoped it would be and some.

He’d expected the initial shyness and embarrassment. He’d even expected Yuri to put up a snarky brat act. But the abandon with which Yuri gets into it—how his lips chase Victor’s thumb when Victor pulls to remove it; how they’re so close now, as Yuri unconsciously scoots forward on Victor’s lap as he tries to press harder into his hand—he hadn’t expected _that_.

He doesn’t regret dropping one thousand bucks on an iPhone in the slightest. (It has full three-year warranty, including unlimited screen replacement. Victor asked).

“Gorgeous,” Victor says—and then he pulls his hand away from the front of Yuri’s pants.

Yuri keens around his thumb and sucks on it harder, lips locked around it while glaring bloody murder. “Asshole,” Yuri spits out and closes his eyes, chest heaving. “Bloody, fucking, stinking asshole.”

Victor’s hands are pinning his hips in place. They still twitch forward involuntarily.

“Fuck.” Yuri concludes with a sigh. “You fucking sadist.”

“Not yet,” Victor says.

“You’re fucking evil.”

“I’m not evil. I just got you an iPhone ‘cause you batted your lashes at me.” One of Victor’s hands pets Yuri’s hair, then rests at the back of his neck before sliding down his spine.

“Whatever,” Yuri says but leans into the touch.

“Clothes off. Let me see you.”

“You’ve seen me.”

“Not with a blush half-way down your chest and your dick this hard, I haven’t.”

“Ugh,” says Yuri and gets up, tossing away first his t-shirt, then (after some peeling) his skinny jeans. They’re definitely too small, Victor thinks as he pulls a very naked Yuri back into his lap and traces with a finger the ridges that the seams have dug into Yuri’s thighs.

Said thighs are wonderful to touch. There’s something about how full they are compared to the rest of Yuri body that makes Victor want to dig his fingers in and squeeze, then move his hands up and repeat on Yuri’s ass. In the middle of it all, Yuri’s tiny dick stands firm and red, pointing up like only a teenager’s would. Victor strokes it lightly with the back of his finger. It looks like it’d be delicious. Like Victor would able to fit all of it in his mouth.

“Do it, asshole, fuck-“

“What did I say about negotiating like there’ll always be a next time?”

“Whatever, you’re not a fucking sponsor.”

“Am I not?” Victor raises an eyebrow and points his chin at the half-unpacked iPhone on the couch.

“Fuck you,” Yuri says.

Victor keeps tracing his finger up and down Yuri’s cock.

Yuri keeps breathing hard and looking at Victor like he wishes he could kill him.

“The way you’re doing it right now, you’re giving me all the power,” Victor says, still teasing. “You’re telling me I’m the one who’s got something you want. And I can choose to give it to you, or not.”

Up and down. Up and down.

“If you show your hand like this, people will sniff it out and they’ll give you a bad deal.”

“Fuck, whatever,” Yuri pants and his hips jut forward.

“It’s not whatever,” Victor chides, his voice even, and puts his hands on the sides of Yuri’s hips until Yuri stills. Then because he’s an asshole, he sucks on his index finger and makes it very, very wet, and starts drawing patterns on Yuri’s dickhead with it. “What if I were to say, ‘He’s obviously gagging for it; I bet he doesn’t even need an iPhone and he’d still do it,’ hm? What if I asked for it back? You’ve got to be stronger than this.”

“Then stop fucking teasing me for a second!”

Victor laughs. Should he? On the one hand, delivering Yuri from his misery will be so easy right now. Victor probably just needs to get a proper hold of Yuri’s dick and give it a good squeeze, and that would be that for round one. (Or make Yuri lie back on the couch as Victor’s nose bumps his balls on its way up? So many choices.)

On the other hand, Victor _likes_ teasing Yuri. Yuri is cute. Yuri’s tiny dick is cute, though Victor would never say that aloud. He’s been a fourteen-year-old guy himself; he knows it won’t go over well.

On the third, and probably the most important hand, there is a teachable moment here, and Victor thinks he might be doing Yuri a disservice if he were to let it go.

“Are you really gonna take your iPhone back?” Yuri asks in a small, anxious voice.

“No. It’s _your_ iPhone now,” Victor says. “I was just making a point.”

Yuri lets out a breath of relief. He’s still too vulnerable. Still shows too much of what he wants and what he’s scared of. Victor tilts his head and thinks, index finger on his mouth.

“Make me come, you asshole, make me come, make me come, make me come,” Yuri rants, eyes and fists clenched tight. “Can I at least jerk myself off? Please?”

“Yuri.” Don’t be this open with your desires, Victor wants to say. Don’t be this desperate. I know what it’s like when life has taught you that good things are scarce and can be taken from you at a moment’s notice. You don’t bother with long-term plans. You want everything _now_ , because you know there might not be a later. But-

“Please,” Yuri says softly, his eyes still closed, and it does something to Victor.

“Come here,” he says and pulls him close, one hand on the back of his neck-

-and they’re kissing.

Yuri kisses awkwardly but eagerly, like he cares about kissing Victor much more than he cares about his iPhone. Victor slides his hands up his thighs and clutches his ass, rumbles into his mouth. And this is his mistake, right there: while he wasn’t paying attention, Yuri has somehow managed to sneak down a hand and give himself the two tugs it must have taken for him to moan into Victor’s mouth and cover the front of his shirt with come.

“Brat,” Victor chides, but holds Yuri’s languid body close against his chest. “I was gonna suck that.”

“Hmm. You can suck it later,” Yuri murmurs next to his ear. “For free, even. Won’t ask you to buy me anything.”

Victor laughs. “So generous.”

“Aa.”

Yuri’s weight on top of him feels nice—warm and relaxing as it presses him into the couch. He’s thinking: this is the same mistrust. ‘I can’t rely on others to give me what I need; they may say they will, but they won’t. I have to sneak around, find my opening, so I can grab onto it before it manages to slip away.' In his mind, he starts a different kind of “shopping list”. Teach Yuri to believe he’s good enough to be given what he asks for, and to negotiate from a position of power. Teach Yuri to trust that good things in life don’t have to be provisional.

“How are you not hard?” Yuri asks incredulously.

Victor laughs at the bony hand that’s worked its way to the front of his pants to check. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll kiss it better, and I’ll be.”

“Can I see it?” Yuri asks, very obviously trying not to sound too eager.

“Yes, you can. Unbutton my pants if you want.”

It’s kind of flattering, how Yuri bites his lip and tries to hold back his excitement as he gets up and squats between Victor’s legs. Other than how messy his hair is and some come on his chest, you wouldn’t even know he jerked himself off not five minutes ago.

Fucking fourteen-year-olds, and their energy, and their stamina.

“Oh, wow,” says Yuri wide-eyed, and feels up Victor through his boxers. It feels nice. “I mean, I knew you were hung. It’s kind of impossible to be around you when you’re in your practice gear and not to know what you’re hung. And then there’s how Georgi and Mila giggle. But… wow.”

Victor chuckles. “Yeah. I’m hung.” He relaxes into the sofa and spreads his legs. “And I like that thing you're doing. How you’re just touching it and rubbing it through the fabric. And pressing it with your hand… yeah, like that…” Victor says, as Yuri does it more.

“Oh wow,” Yuri says when Victor’s bulge starts to grow.

“Very nice,” Victor rumbles and slouches a little.

“Is it because you’re old that it takes this long to get hard?”

Victor makes an uncoordinated swat for Yuri’s head, but Yuri is faster and just giggles at him when his hand flops uselessly into the air. The little cheeky shit: when Victor can be bothered with talking again, he’s totally telling Yuri his dick is tiny and cute. Sweet revenge.

But not yet. Now, he hums and presses into Yuri’s hand. It’s nice. He’s always loved this part.

Yuri doesn’t ask—he just licks his lips and pulls down Victor’s boxers. “Holy shit,” he says and goggles. “That’s, like, gonna take two hands when it’s completely hard.”

“Hmm. And a fuckton of lube.”

“Wow. How big does this fucking thing get?”

“Thirty centimeters. Kind of. Thirty-one, maybe, I don’t know.”

“Shit, that’s never gonna fit,” Yuri says, and it warms Victor’s heart how earnestly disappointed he sounds.

“It’ll fit, if we take our time to work you up to it.” He spreads his legs more. “Do you want it to fit?”

Yuri looks up at him and gives the tiniest, intimidated nod.

“Come cuddle with me a little,” Victor says. Because what they don’t tell you about big dicks—about properly big dicks that you can barely close your fingers around—is how few people actually want to fit them. The fantasy of it is tantalizing, sure. It makes sense to people’s lizard brains that if dick is good, a whole lot of it must be a whole lot better. But the truth is, it’s uncomfortable. It stretches you so much it hurts—and that’s girls, with lube.

“How about this,” Victor tells Yuri as he stretches out across the couch and Yuri settles on top of him. “If you can fit it, I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes. The most hideous ones, whatever brand you want.”

“Two pairs,” Yuri says cheekily.

“Okay, two pairs,” Victor chuckles, because good for Yuri, learning his lesson and driving a bargain.

“And an MCM Honshu Tantris backpack. And a leopard print leather jacket. And Ray Bans.”

And a couple of pairs of jeans, and some socks, Victor adds in his head. “You’ll need to take it for a long time, to earn this many presents.”

“Then I’ll earn them,” Yuri says, resolute. It’s Victor’s turn to be a bit intimidated, now—because this is Yuri Plisetsky, and he has just accepted a challenge.

Yuri shifts a little. He’s hard. Again. “Oh,” Victor teases. “Did you enjoy talking about that? About taking all of it up your ass?”

Yuri doesn’t say anything, just moans and ruts into Victor. Well, then.

“Do you know how difficult it is?” Victor continues. “Not many people can do it. You’ll need to work for it.”

Yuri likes the thought of working for it, judging by how hard he grinds himself into Victor.

“It’ll take at least a month. Maybe two. Getting you used to taking it harder, and taking more.” Yuri moans. “It’ll stretch you so wide and so deep. You’d be able to fit a fist in there by the time you can take my dick without blinking an eye.” It doesn’t seem to matter what Victor comes up with, all seems to sound like a great idea to Yuri.

“I’ll ride you so hard, old man.”

“Will you? Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

“Oh, fuck, yea,” Yuri groans as he comes on Victor’s shirt.

Victor holds him as his breath subsides and his heart settles. Ridiculous dirty talk, check: namely, about the amount of dick he can fit in his ass. Yuri Plisetsky and a challenge, indeed: if he overachieves at anal the same way he overachieves at skating, Victor doesn’t know if he should be excited or a bit scared.

“You don’t want to come?” Yuri says when he comes to, and squeezes Victor’s dick—now fully hard, all thirty centimetres of it.

“Hnn, I like this, do it more,” Victor says lazily. “Spit in your hand.”

Yuri does, right under Victor’s nose, looking up at him through his lashes. Then he lowers his hand back down to his dick-head and rubs.

“Slower… slow down a little…”

Yuri looks up at him, incredulous.

“It’s nice when you take your time. Makes it better in the end.”

“Yeah?”

“Aa. The more you tease it, the harder you come. Plus you get to enjoy it longer.”

“That’s why you did this shit to me!” Yuri concludes like he’s just had a revelation. “You actually _like_ being tortured! Weirdo.”

“Hnnn… not weird at all. I’ll show you next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Next time.’” Yuri says, a bit suspicious, as he scoots down Victor’s body. Victor finds he’s okay with this plan. “Next time when?” Yuri asks from between his legs.

“Next time, Wednesday after practice. We come here, we go upstairs, and I’ll show you.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do?” Yuri says as it grips Victor’s dick with both hands, one over the other.

“Don’t squeeze so hard-“

“Like this?” Yuri says and loosens his grip a little.

“Yeah. I like it better when it’s softer. I’ll tell you when to speed up.”

“Okay.”

Yuri spends some time just… caressing his dick. Victor lies back, enjoying himself. It really is a treat, just being able to relax and feel.

And then Yuri starts with the kitten licks. “Hmm, this is really nice,” Victor growls low in his throat. “A little more, now. Suck on the head. All of it.”

Yuri does, and moans on it for good measure. Victor starts to feel it build. He wills himself to let go of the urgency—just feel each individual sensation and be a good example for Yuri. Yet he can’t help thrusting up into it, lightly. It’s just— it’s wonderful.

Yuri moans onto his dick-head again, and one of the hands on Victor’s dick disappears. He’s really hoping it’ll go to his balls, but it doesn’t—instead, Yuri breaks the rhythm of his sucking a little and moans harder.

“Don’t-” Victor takes in a big gulp of air. “Keep it for me, I want to do you later… finish me now, if you can’t wait. C’mon, Yuri, harder—don’t hump the couch, you little…”

Yuri whines unhappily but scoots over. Victor can’t be fucked to pay attention to anything else but the way Yuri’s sucking on the head of his dick and pumping his shaft with both hands, his grip firm and steady. He can’t help but think—imagine Yuri on all fours, asshole stretched so wide it’s gaping as Victor lines up his dick and sinks in. Yuri’s tiny, bubbly ass. The globes fit in Victor’s hands, when he grabs them.

“Harder,” he tells Yuri and humps up into his fists to set the rhythm he needs. Yuri’s doing his best to take in as much of his dick as he can—Victor can feel it bumping into the back of his throat. “Soon,” he tells Yuri, and hopes his panting and the fast, short thrusts of his hips speak for themselves.

He comes into Yuri’s mouth with a groan, and Yuri, god bless his work ethic, gathers it all into his mouth then looks up at victor as he spits it all over his dick and proceeds to rub it all over it as it softens.

“Shh, enough, enough,” Victor says as he tries to pull Yuri up with whatever coordination he’s got left. “This was such an excellent blow-job,” he says as Yuri climbs up and settles on top of him. Victor sighs and lets Yuri’s weight press him into the couch. “So good.” He puts one hand in Yuri’s hair and the other one across his back, and holds.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knows, there’s a bony elbow digging in his ribs and an unhappy teenager going, “Wake up, you geriatric idiot, it’s my turn, you fucking promised—”

Yes. Yes, he did promise, even though in all honesty he’d much rather sleep with Yuri on top of him right now.

It really _was_ an excellent blow-job.

Victor tries to think of how to square his promises with his laziness. In the end, Yuri ends up straddling his chest and fucking his mouth while Victor squeezes his butt. If Victor tilts his head a little, Yuri’s (tiny, cute) dick fits inside completely. It’s pale, the skin is so soft, the head is so pink—it’s an absolute joy to suck, especially with how Yuri’s eyes roll back and his mouth goes slack. Victor would definitely be doing this more, he thinks as Yuri’s come hits his tongue. He swallows it down and licks Yuri’s dick back to softness.

“Hmmnh,” Yuri says as he rearranges himself on top of Victor, his eyes falling closed as soon as his head hits Victor’s chest.

 _Nap time_ , Victor thinks as he wraps his arms around him and closes his eyes, too.

 

__________________

 

When Victor finally wakes up, Yuri’s still on his chest. As usual, his nose is in his cell phone—this time, the new one. Victor envies him his rapt concentration.

“Is everything working fine?” His voice comes out a little rumbly with sleep.

“Aa.” Yuri says, not looking up from the screen. Victor takes the time to study his face.

“So, I was thinking this?” Yuri finally says as turns the screen to Victor. It’s a neat row of black butt-plugs in ascending sizes. “That way, when you work me up to one I can take it home and keep it in overnight or something-“

Victor almost rolls his eyes. It’s kind of like Yuri’s still in juniors, but in his mind, he’s already medaled at Pyeongchang: he hasn’t even had fingers in his ass, but he’s already planning his training programme to Monster XL Dildo or whatever the last one in the line is called.

“Hmm,” Victor ruffles his hair lightly and earns himself a glare. “Leave it for now, and don’t send me any links,” he says softly, because the last thing he needs between himself and his fourteen-year-old boy toy is an electronic trail. “I’ll do some research later, too, and I’ll get you something.”

“Can’t we do it now?” Surprise: Yuri is impatient. Of course he is; he landed a quad sal at twelve. It’s not like that’s news. (And there was that thing again, grasping onto any opportunity and seizing it _now_ , lest it somehow slips away.)

“We’re taking this slow, and we’re doing this right,” Victor says evenly. “It will happen. But it will happen on its own time, without it impacting your ability to practice. I need you to trust me, and I need you to trust that I want you.”

“It’s not going to impact my practice!”

“It’s tissue,” Victor says. “If you force it and you overwork it, it gets sore. It’ll hurt every time you need to jump. And you will wince, and Yakov will notice, and we’ll get busted.” He gives Yuri a pointed look. He doesn’t need to explain the consequences of that: Yuri’s tabloid fodder and Victor goes to jail.

Yuri’s face falls.

“What?” Victor asks and puts a hand on Yuri’s cheek. “What is it, now? It’ll happen, I promise,” he says softly.

“But who are you going to fuck in the meantime,” Yuri mumbles. “If it takes forever before I can do it… I want you to fuck only me.”

Victor had forgotten what teenagers are like. It’s been six hours, and they’re already In A Committed Relationship. “I’ll fuck only you,” he says, because it’s not like it’ll be a hardship. “I promise. I’ll wait. We’ll do it properly and you’ll still be ready in no time.”

“But you said a month!”

Victor laughs. A Month! It might as well be infinity.

What he doesn’t tell Yuri is that it might take longer than that. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes,” Victor says. “That was a really good blowjob you gave me today. Then, there’s other things we can do. It won’t be that bad, waiting.”

“Other things like what?”

“Like lubing you all up and fucking between your thighs. Or you fucking me while I jerk myself off. Or me lying back while you work me with my Fleshlight. Possibilities are endless, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yuri pouts.

“Okay, I won’t. But there’s still things we can do, and you don’t need to worry.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Yuri appears to give this some thought while chewing on his bottom lip. “Can I have pizza?”

Victor laughs. “Not exactly on your meal plan, is it?”

“Yeah, but it’s my first time. I want pizza.”

“Then pizza it is,” Victor says and reaches out a hand for Yuri’s phone.


End file.
